


Green

by alitbitmoody



Series: Stoplight (Prompts) [1]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Chastity Device, Corsetry, Drabble, Implied sexy times ahead, M/M, Married Couple, Prompt Fic, but no actual sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 11:55:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15948854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alitbitmoody/pseuds/alitbitmoody
Summary: Newt is up and dressed before Hermann on a Saturday.





	Green

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KateDoesntExist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateDoesntExist/gifts).



> For the [Drabble Challenge](https://prompt-bank.tumblr.com/post/152084082678/drabble-challenge) : **Prompt 84. “Show me what’s behind your back.”**

It might have been the light color – and Hermann could acknowledge his weakness for cliche – but Newton’s eyes twinkled. They sparkled. Often when he was struggling to contain a secret that he had managed to keep for longer than ten minutes. 

Hermann was fond of them, familiar with them in a way that felt subatomic. Since the bone slums, he had flinched in the mirror more than once when confronted with his own dark eyes as opposed to misty green, relief taking over the second he crossed those few steps back to the bedroom where his partner lay sleeping, or the lab where he reviewed slides under a microscope or inputted data on the holoscreen.   
  
Today, those eyes were following his every move, from their bedroom, to the bath. It was finally the constant peering at him from across the breakfast bar in their tiny kitchen that moved him to say something.  
  
“Right, then. Out with it.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“You’re plotting something,” he said, setting his tea on the counter. “Or  _thinking_ of plotting something.”   
  
“You’ve been awake for five minutes – how could you possibly know that?”  
  
“Call it a hunch. Show me what’s behind your back.”  
  
“Do I have to?” he asked, smirking as he drew out the last syllable. “I mean, I could just tell you what’s back there! Tattoos, freckles, crooked seams, part of a surgery scar.”  
  
“ _You_  don’t have a surgery scar.”  
  
“…oh, right,” he laughed. “That still gets confusing. You know you can always tell which side was the surgeon and which side was the surgical resident.”  
  
Hermann laughed, privately absorbing his own statement mirrored back at him – made on a rare night of drinking with Newton, after everyone else at Tendo’s birthday had either retired to their own rooms or collapsed to the barracks floor. The scars in question had aged and flattened out before he had been old enough to tell the difference, but his sister, Karla, had filled him, comparing the resident's incisions to 'a bear cub's mauling.' Later, Newton had insisted on seeing for himself to confirm the description.  
  
“I seem to recall… all of that, yes. Come on, out with it.”  
  
“Okay, okay! I’ll show you.” he brings his hands out from behind his back, each closed in a fist. “Pick one.”   
  
A flicker of recognition zipped through his brain with cold precision, like an ice pick or a piercing needle, replaced by more familiar figures of probability. People who were attempting to conceal something typically held it in their dominant hand, which was Newton’s right hand. Usually. Post-drift confusion had led to him using his left more often as he attempted to write notes, wipe down the dissection table, or paint over the water damage on the walls in their shared quarters. And it had been that kind of morning already...  
  
Hermann reached out to grab Newt’s left wrist. Was rewarded as his partner turned his hand palm upward, fingers opening to reveal a familiar brass key.  
  
“…is that what I think it is?”  
  
Newt brought his palm over to cover his hip. “You tell me.”  
  
Hermann flexed his fingers, eyes widening at the steel band under the wool.  
  
“Are you…” he swallowed, mouth abruptly dry, “you’re wearing the chastity device?”  
  
“Maybe.”  
  
His fingers skirted up to his husband’s waist, felt the vertical steel boning at the bottom his ribs.  
  
“… and a corset?”  
  
“ _Maybe._ ”  
  
“Aren’t we having lunch with Mako and Jake in… less than two hours?”  
  
“May– no, we _definitely_ _are_. I made that reservation. I should know that.”  
  
He had thought it was curious that Newton was up and dressed before him on a Saturday for once. Hermann suppressed a smile.   
  
“Are you… going to make it until we come back home after?”  
  
“Oh, I will be just fine, dude. You think I haven’t done this a hundred times already? In a hundred different places? Most of the time it was just to amuse myself. I even lost the key once – that was a memorable night. And a memorable chasing hammer,” he laughed, his grin morphing from self-deprecating to… something else as he took in Hermann’s expression. “Should I be asking if  _you’re_ going to make it?”  
  
Hermann squeezed his waist, leaning in until their clothed hips were flush together.  
  
“Feel free to time me, if you like, darling.”  
  
“I started the clock the second you walked in,” he smirked. “Get dressed, dear. We don’t want to be late.”


End file.
